Anything that tugs the heart is magical. When an evocative story or a piece of music or an unusual sculpture touches the soul, it’s an exquisite feeling. And any creative form that brings forth a sense of peace, even for that brief moment in time, it is beautiful.
Poetry is one art form that I savour and let sway my feelings. It transcends and transports me to another place. I enjoy the emotional ride when the beauty of words gets under the skin, hitting a nerve, bringing tears. Often when I return to reality from the hypnotic rhythm of the poem, I wish I could pen something equally beautiful.
Alas, I cannot write the damned thing.
I’ve tried a million times, and failed miserably. In that state of misery, I have tried again. It is said that misery inspires the poet. Still didn’t work. Poetry is probably the freest form of writing and is a result of a feeling or emotion.
And I discovered something about myself.
To write, I need structure and outlines – a map. I need to think within guidelines – a pot to pour in all the condiments to create the story soup. An idea that branches out (not too much) into a balance of plot and characters is necessary. I must have the right ingredients to whisk, bake, and add the extra icing to make it tasty.
For me to free-flow, there has to be boundaries. A format must exist to form a plot, and crazy characters to create the conflict. Once I have the bare bones I feel inspired enough to flesh out the story.
But, poetry is different; it is like a river flowing wild in any direction and speed. It is like an overwhelming field of flowers that grows untamed. In poetry, there are no guidelines, no holding back. There is only movement, and fluid thoughts forming perfect rhythmic phrases. These random words come together to form small powerpunches of emotion. Yes, the words can stay with you for days, haunt you at nights so you want to read the poem again and again.
And then I had another epiphany -I am afraid of excessive creative freedom. The limitless, the infinite, and the endless overwhelm me. I cannot deal with creativity without constraints. I need to have control of the reins, or else who knows where the emotions could go galloping.
But then I found something that would make me feel like a poet.
I discovered Haiku – Japanese poetry with 17 syllables divided into three phrases of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively.
An entirely new world has opened up for me. Check out my page ‘Stuff’.
And as I go on a wild ride with my structured poems, I feel validated. For a few good moments, I can take a boat on the wild flowing river and navigate. For a few good moments, I can lie in that field of flowers and let my imagination go wild.
Yes, for a few moments in time, it feels good to be a poet.
Haikus about Writing
Two hours in silence
Facebook Twitter blogs distract
Author word count two
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Man woman love hate
evil plot for him and her
will spice up romance
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Writer bleeds the plot
gleeful editors axe words
Fuming author smiles
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Wild ideas fill book
Butt size grows with fame and fortune
publishers happy
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Shobha Nihalani: Meanderings 